All Dressed Up And Nowhere To Go
by Startisparticus2017
Summary: The reality was that not only one person was hurt that day, but two who functioned as one. Hutch is in trouble can Starsky pull him through? Episode Related. This story has been Beta Read, Thank you Sandy and Maryellen for your support. This story is Completed. Fan Fiction - SHFAFF Writing Prompt 2018


**STARSKY & HUTCH**

**ALL DRESSED UP AND NOWHERE TO GO**

**By Startisparticus2017**

SHFAFF Prompt January 2018

**Chapter 1**

The scent of earthy musk cologne emanated from the bathroom. A cheery high pitched whistle filled the apartment with a nearly unrecognizable tune, a cross between Gilligan's Island and the Batman theme. This was David Starsky's apartment.

Exiting the bathroom dressed in a white long sleeve shirt, dark corduroy navy blue jacket and his best fitted, faded blue jeans, Starsky fussed with the sleeves and checked his watch. "I'm on time and if I do say so myself, ya look and smell good, Davey."

Briefly he glanced down and noted his brand new adidas footwear and smiled widely. "I feel like I'm floatin' with these new shoes. Come to think of it, what happened to my old ones?" His head held high he swaggered to the closet and opened the door to reveal a full length mirror. A slow motion cascading frown overtook his handsome features as he noticed his buttons were not aligned, he had missed one.

Slightly trembling fingers unbuttoned five buttons to reveal a muscular chest and abdomen displayed with prominent scars. The confidence washed away and sadness took over, along with the slumping of his shoulders. "Who am I kiddin'? Ya ain't what ya used to be, David Starsky. " A tone of disappointment slipped past his lips.

Taking a deep labored breath, he buttoned the shirt and connected his new tennis shoe with the closet door slamming it closed. The slumped shoulders rose as he rolled them back like a prized fighter ready for the kill tipping his head from side to side. "Scars build character, Hutch says women love them. Just keep tellin' yourself that." A sheepish grin adorned the once sad features.

It had been months of hospital stays and therapy for the brunet since the day a hit was ordered on the duo. The day one went down and the other hung in the balance of 'he's going to die.' There were several relapses due to infections and pneumonia. He hadn't been with a woman for a very long time. The main focus was recovery and proving to more himself than others, David Michael Starsky is back and better than ever. Well that was one reason the other was his partner. Although they never spoke of it, the big blond harbored blame for not protecting his partner that day in the PD parking lot. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to prove to Hutch the blame belonged to one James Gunther. There was a lot at stake, their carriers, partnership, and most importantly Kenneth Hutchinson's mental health. Starsky didn't want a repeat of the past downward spiral his best friend experienced. The one true fact is no one can put himself in a world of inner torture like Hutch.

The brunet ran his hands through his hair in an attempt to push away the negative thoughts. The phone rang distracting him from his self-coaching therapy. He walked slowly and retrieved the handset from the cradle and placed against his ear. "Hello…Candice?"

The smiled that had formed quickly disappeared; he pursed his lips and sighed. "I hope ya feel better." The handset remained in his hand and slid down his jaw line. He tapped the handset on his chin with visible disappointment. He placed the handset down onto the receiver and sat at the kitchen table. "All dressed up and nowhere to go." The brunet leaned his head onto his hand as he propped his elbow on the table. "Ah, stop feelin' sorry for yourself. Ya weren't ready for all the action anyways."

A brief glance to the wall clock and deep breath he rose to his feet and went to the refrigerator. He opened the door and extracted a bottle of root beer. As he twisted the cap a thought came into mind. "Hutch is on a date; why not go down to The Pits for a little pool and a burger?"

He took a long sip of his root beer; his spirits appeared lifted. Placing the bottle on the counter he walked back to the table to retrieve his keys and noticed the calendar on the wall that read. "The Pits will be closed the twentieth to the twenty fifth for renovations." The keys were dropped onto the table as the brunet's eyebrows rose. "Terrific."

**Chapter 2**

In his dimly lit apartment sat Ken Hutchinson in a casual pale blue pullover and black slacks. He was focused on the book he held in one hand and sipped a beer with the other. He no longer displayed the mustache or the long hair, both a mere memory.

A beautiful brunette exited the bathroom dressed in an airline uniform. She adjusted the scarf around her neck and glanced at the clock that read 9 pm. "Ken, are you sure you don't mind?"

Hutch placed the book on the table near the chair and rose to his feet. The pretty brunette approached him with open arms and kissed him on the cheek. The blond responded with an embrace and backed away. "Work comes first. We always have next week." He winked and smiled.

The woman blew a kiss and as she pulled away flirtatiously and left. Hutch shook his head and glanced at the clock. "You've wanted to finish that book. No time like the present."

The tall blond returned to the chair and adjusted the cushion behind his back. He sat there for a moment in thought and smirked. "Oh come on Hutchinson, your partner is an adult. Stop worrying."

The phone rang startling Hutch from his worried thoughts. He casually reached over the stand beside the chair and grabbed the handset. "Hello." His face displayed panic as he sat up. "Mrs. Starsky, I-I mean Mom. What's wrong?" The breath he held released, his body relaxed. "I thought he was on a date?"

The blond listened as concern grew within him. "I know you are worried. Did he say anything?" The blue eyes glared ahead as though studying an object, then closed as he sighed. "Don't worry, I'll go and check on him. I'm actually relieved his date cancelled if she is sick. He can't compromise his immune system. I love you too." His voice calm, but his gut churned slight with anxiety.

He placed the handset on the cradle and jumped to his feet. He grabbed his keys on the coffee table and went to the closet to grab his tan suede jacket when a large white plastic bag fell off the shelf. Hutch bent over and took the bag in his hand and left the suede jacket on the hanger. The bag read personal belongings in blue, and David Starsky in black which was hand written in ink. Hutch clutched it as though his life depended on it.

Inside the bag, a brown leather jacket, Starsky's leather jacket, and other articles of clothing from that very day in the Bay City PD parking lot. The almost catatonic blond walked to the kitchen table and placed the bag gently down. Trembling hands opened the bag and pulled the brown leather jacket slowly out of the bag. His features were solemn and bleached. Wide eyes were focused on the leather garment that he now held with both hands in front of him. It displayed three holes on the back. A dark crimson stain appeared crusted around each hole. Prominent blotches that were larger in size almost shadow-like covered the faded leather. Hutch examined each cavity and puddle-like smears that cascaded from left to right as though he were to take a quiz. He had forgotten about the bag and its contents. Perhaps he hadn't forgotten he just didn't want to revisit that horrible day.

His fists and fingers grasped the jacket as though he dangled from a cliff's edge. His eyes were wide, and strained. The glassiness of shock present with liquid emotion dangling from his lashes. He couldn't move as a volcano of inner turmoil erupted causing him to shiver.

**Chapter 3**

The door slowly opened with a head of dark curls peaking through. "Hey, Blondie? You decent? What are ya doin' home? Did the rocket fail to launch, Houston?" Starsky stepped in and abruptly stopped in his tracks when he saw his partner holding what used to be his favorite leather jacket. Starsky closed the door behind him quietly. He shortened the distance between them very slowly. "Hutch?" He called out softly and calmly. "My date cancelled and I was drivin'…you okay?" He raised one eyebrow.

When he didn't receive a response or reaction he stepped in closer and touched the white knuckled hand that clutched the jacket. He placed his fingers over the iron grasp grip and attempted to pry the hand away. "It's okay. Let it go, Hutch. I got it. Let it go, boy." Worried indigo blue eyes watched for any sign of recognition from the shell shocked blond. "I've been wonderin' where this was." The brunet's hands quivered as his eyes were redirected to the bullet holes. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes and turned his head away. An alarm went off inside. Starsky thought if this was affecting him, he couldn't imagine what his partner was going through.

The blond's arms dropped a few inches slowly, but his eyes never left the brown leather jacket. Starsky pried the one hand from the shoulder of the jacket and began working on the other. "Hey, you okay? Come on, Blintz? Ya scarin' me. Let go of the jacket, will ya?"

The jacket was now in Starsky's possession. He looked at it for a brief moment. The leather crackled between his fingers. The distinct odor of blood-his blood-flooded his nasal passages almost causing his stomach to revolt. He placed it into the large white plastic hospital bag. "I'll take care of it." He spoke with his voice just above a whisper. He bit his bottom lip.

The blond's eyes watched his partner's every move; tears left his lashes and ran down his cheeks causing him to blink. The once clutched hands touched the bag with quivering fingers. "They said you wouldn't make it, that you were going to die. You did." He spoke with a soft monotone voice. "I wished…wanted, I needed that leather jacket to stop the blood from pouring out of you. I couldn't move, Starsk." His voice cracked slightly. "It all happened so fast-until-until you were on the ground. The time stopped. I was numb…paralyzed." His trembling hands cupped his face and wiped away the tears.

Starsky bowed his head and took a long deep breath. He raised his eyes to look at the bag, then his partner. "I'm here. We are here. I'll get rid of it. Hey, it's okay…its okay, Blondie." The brunet placed his hand on the bag. Hutch grabbed his wrist. "No!" His voice bit the air loudly.

A chill swept between the two men. Starsky's unwavering worried blue glare studied the man that resembled his partner. His best friend had a vice grip on his wrist. "Hutch, ease up you're hurtin' me. Come on, babe?"

Edgy blue pools of strain met the visibly alarmed indigo blue orbs of distress. Starsky managed a forced smirk. The blond released his hold from his partner's wrist and took possession of the large white plastic bag and pulled it to his chest. He wrapped his arms around the sack as though his life depended on it. "I-I d-didn't mean to hurt you, Starsky. I'm sorry." Empathy left his lips.

Starsky could only imagine what his best friend went through. On some other level he truly sensed his partner and best friend's fear and downward spiral during his unconscious state. Captain Dobey and Huggy along with a few of the medical staff validated what transpired. Huggy's interpretation, "If you had died, I think he would have gone with you. I take that back, I know he would have gone with you, Curly."

Scanning the living room Starsky noted the closet door was open. He made his way over to investigate. On the floor was his I-ching necklace with dark burgundy and black specks on the coins and suede cord. He figured it may have fallen from the bag. He also noticed a tattered pair of adidas shoes also stained sitting on a shelf hidden in the back. Next to the shoes sat his gun and holster along with his badge fold. Starsky cupped his left hand over his mouth and took a deep breath as his hand slid down. He bent over and took the necklace into his hand and rubbed his fingers over it. The crusted blood stains flaked and fell to the floor. "Why don't we put that bag back in the closet?" When he received no response he turned to see his friend still in the same spot. "Hutch?"

The blond made his way to the closet. A scene like a B-rated zombie movie, he clung to the bag tightly against his chest and made no effort to make eye contact with his partner. He walked by and placed the bag in the closet and closed the door. Starsky shuffled the necklace in his hand and was startled when his partner grabbed it and ripped it from his grip. The still dazed man he called a partner opened the closet door. The large quivering hand held the necklace for a moment. "This…these things represented you." Slowly as though he were handling fine china he carefully placed the necklace into the bag on the shelf. The door was closed quickly and loudly with a thud. He walked toward the kitchen.

**Chapter 4**

A short time later, Starsky glanced at the closet and frowned. He followed his partner into the kitchen. Hutch pulled a bottle of beer and a root beer from the refrigerator and opened them. He placed them on the counter. His eyes focused onto the floor ahead of him. "If you had died…those things…in that bag would be all I would have had left."

Starsky accepted the root beer and took a sip. He bowed his head. "That's not true; I left ya my car and my playboy magazines, and my model ship." He smirked attempting to break his friend from the doom and gloom of darkness that casted its shadow. There was no response or reaction. Silence hung between them. Starsky took another sip of root beer. "Hey, I'm here. I'm alive, Hutch." The words were spoken with enthusiasm.

Hutch pushed away from the counter and walked quickly toward the living room. He sat on the couch. "What are you doing here; I was on my way to see you. Are you okay?" Genuine concern trailed in his voice. "Your mother called."

Starsky swaggered into the living room. "Oh no! Hey, you aren't gettin' off so easily this time, Hutch. I'm fine. My date cancelled." A perplexed look over took his features. "My mother called?" He slid his butt onto the arm of the couch near his friend. He sighed. "You, however, are not okay. We need to talk, Buddy." With the root beer bottle in hand he extended his finger and pointed.

Hutch inhaled through his nose and lay his head back and let out a deep breath. "I'm sorry." As he glanced up at the ceiling he bit his bottom lip, and then sighed.

Bowing his head, Starsky glanced at his partner. "What are ya sorry for?" He knew his friend was in a fragile state of mind and needed to get him to talk about it. "Hutch?"

Two large trembling hands wiped the sad and blanched face. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "It was my fault. I should have…" His voice faded to silence. Tears cascaded from the corners of his eyes down the side of his temples into his blond hair. "I…I didn't do what a partner should have done. I failed you, Starsky. I'm s...sorry." He swallowed the lump in his throat with a quivering chin.

Starsky bowed his head and turned away momentarily to regain his composure. Slowly he stood and walked over to the coffee table and pushed the magazines displayed on it. He placed his root beer onto the table and sat facing his partner. He leaned forward placing his elbows on his knees and cupped his hands together. "You didn't fail, Hutch." He bowed his head and sighed. "I don't remember much. But I do remember one thing, one very important thing and that was you callin' out my name to warn me." Starsky raised his eyes. "Way I see it is you warnin' me when ya did saved me from gettin' shot up more than I was." Unclasping his hands, the brunet nudged the quiet blond's knee playfully with the back of his hand. "Listen ya, Big Lug; you're fast, ya always got my back. There was no way you could have done anything more, Pal. We both know that." His voice was calm and hung with the New York accent. His eyes told another story, they were on the verge of tears.

Hutch raised his head and sat up to display tear filled eyes. The sadness and pain that emanated from them tugged at the dark-haired partner's heart. Taking a deep breath, Hutch turned his head side to side. "I'm sorry…so sorry, I wished it had been me." A sob escaped as he wiped his eyes. He stood and walked away and began to pace. "I should have jumped over the car instead of falling to the ground." His voice was loud as he shouted.

Starsky bowed his head and cupped his face with his hands and pulled downward. "Don't ever wish for somethin' like that again. Listen, partner, you aren't Superman. Ya don't have eyes in the back of your head or super human powers." His voice was firm. Slowly, displaying a little discomfort, Starsky stood and walked around the couch. "Quit apologizing for somethin' that you had no control over."

The tall blond detective stood by the kitchen table at a loss for words. It was clear by the redness in his eyes that he was overwhelmingly distraught. His lips were pressed together as he raised his hand and pointed his finger and retracted in slow motion. "I couldn't touch you. If I touched you it meant you were really in that hospital bed and you were dying. You did…die. What kind of friend…partner does that? It was my fault." The trembling hand dropped to his side as a submission of defeat.

Starsky crossed his arms over his chest and looked at his partner. "NO! It wasn't your fault. I was fumblin' with my keys and was slow on my draw." Starsky's eyes glazed over as his features grew rigid. "I read the file; there was nothin'…nothin' you could have done to prevent what happene'." His voice held a trickle of frustration and emotion. "Okay…it was your fault, maybe ya cared too much. Yeah…maybe we should've concentrated on being cops and instead of friends."

Awestruck Hutch bowed his head. "Starsky that's ridiculous. That has nothing to do with…" His voice was soft.

"It's no more ridiculous than you belamin' yourself." Starsky turned and went to the closet and pulled the white plastic bag from the shelf. He removed the brown leather jacket and held it in his hands. This caught the blond's attention; his face tensed with fear and anxiety. "Starsky, what are you doing? Starsk, put that back!" He snapped.

The brunet removed his suit jacket and tossed it onto the couch. He put the leather jacket on and looked at his shell-shocked friend. "It's time we deal with this, Hutch." The brunet turned to retrieve another item from the bag. The coined necklace dangled from his hand. He placed the coin necklace to the front of his neck and tied the black-suede lacing. Starsky held the bag in his right hand.

Without warning he was met with the presence of his tall partner. Hutch's eyes were wide and wild, and his jaw was rigid. He used his two inch advantage in height to intimidate. The rugged chin quivered as his eyes misted. The tall distraught man reached with trembling hands and ripped the white bag from his partner's hand. "Take it off! Starsky, take them off?" A floodgate of bad memories raced through his mind. The feeling of dread, fear and most of all 'I almost lost him' consumed him.

Starsky reached and placed his hands on his partner's arms then coiled his fingers for a firm grip. He pulled in a ragged breath. "Look at me…look at me, Hutch!" A lump formed to the back of his throat, his nostrils flared, and eyes that exhibited ice-blue daggers of compassion looked directly at his partner. A thin line formed across his lips with pure adrenaline enhancing his breathing. "Snap out of it, boy! Partner, you're scarin' me." His voice cracked. "I'm here, we are here. Hutch?" The brunet closed his eyes and blinked several times. A single tear escaped and rolled down his face. Without a second thought Starsky released his partner's arms and took his incapacitated friends right hand and placed it onto his chest over his heart beneath the leather jacket. "Do ya feel that, huh?" His voice broke as he choked back a soft sob. "Do ya feel it…do ya?" The trail of emotions laced his voice.

Hutch was mesmerized by his hand which was placed firmly onto his friend's chest. The rapid heart rate beneath his hand sent chills through his body. Tears streamed down his face, his lips were parted as though he were in awe of the situation or trying to say something. The sound of plastic crinkling filled the apartment as he dropped the hospital bag. Raising the other hand, his fingers touched the coined necklace delicately. His thumb brushed his partner's jaw then the palm of his hand gently caressed it. His eyes rose to meet his partner's bleary indigo blue glare. "It's strong. You're alive." His rugged chin quivered. "You're a miracle." He responded with a partial smirk and smile in his voice.

The brunet kept his eyes focused onto his partner. "I need ya, pal. I'll be back on the streets soon and I need to know you're gonna be okay. I need to know if we are gonna be okay." He took a deep breath. "You've been beatin' yourself up all this time. There was nothin' ya could've done, Blintz. Let this go and come back to me. It's a jacket…just a jacket, a bag, and a bad memory." Stepping back, he slowly removed the jacket and extended it to his partner. Hutch lowered his hand from where it was once upon Starsky's chest. The large hand trembled and grasped it as though it were a fragile glass object and lowered it and put it into the plastic bag. The tall blond took the bag and returned it to the closet almost robotically. The normally tall stance and confident shoulders were drooped. Closing the closet door he left his right hand and forearm pressed against the door then leaned his forehead against it.

Starsky wiped his face with both hands and took a deep breath. Slowly he swaggered and retrieved his suit jacket and put it on. He looked at his partner and pinched his lips together as he though he were in deep thought. The reality was that not only one person was hurt that day, but two who functioned as one.

**Chapter 5**

The faucet ran as Hutch glared at himself in the mirror. The stain of anxiety molded his features into a long lost look. He bowed his head and splashed some of the water onto his face.

In the living room Starsky entered the closet and grabbed the hospital bag along with his stained tennis shoes and placed them into the white sack. Quietly he exited the apartment leaving the door open and scaled the stairs. Once he had reached his car he retrieved his keys and opened the trunk and placed the bag in. Not wasting time he slammed the trunk and climbed the stairs and entered the apartment. He pulled his partner's black leather jacket from the closet and set it on the back of the couch and went back and closed the closet door. The brunet placed his hand on his chest and gasped for a breath. "Note to self...pace yourself out." Several beads of perspiration cascaded from his forehead. He raised his hand and wiped them as he calmed his breathing.

The bathroom door opened and Hutch entered the living room. He scanned the room and noticed his partner standing near the door. He bowed his head and cleared his throat. "Starsk, do you mind if we call it a night?"

Concentrating on his breathing, Starsky mustered a smirked. "Well actually, yes I do mind. I've been cooped up for months. I put on my best attire, and if I do say so myself I look pretty good." He followed the statement with his best wide grin.

Hutch raised his eyebrows and chuckled. The brief smile was short lived. "I think…I don't know what just happened…"

The brunet dangled his keys and interrupted his friend. "Grab your coat, Detective Hutchinson." He pursed his lips and raised his brow. "Do you trust me?"

The blond turned and grabbed his coat that sat on the back of the sofa. He was flustered. "What kind of question is that?" He slid his arm in the sleeve and pulled the coat on and followed his partner.

**Chapter 6**

Starsky maneuvered the Torino with precision onto a parking lot near the beach. The quiet passenger appeared to revive as he put the shifter in park. "What are we doing here?"

The driver reached over and retrieved a book of matches from the glove compartment. The movement caused him some discomfort that he was not able to disguise. A large gentle hand touched his arm comfortingly. "You okay?" The voice was soft as pair of worried blue eye adorned him.

Starsky nodded. "The fact I feel pain is…good. I'm not complainin'. I'm fine, Hutch." He winked and exited the car.

Sighing, Hutch exited the car and followed his partner to the back of the car. They both leaned their backs against the car and listened to the waves crashing against the shore line. The wind was calm and the night was lit by a full moon. Starsky played with his car keys with his left hand. He leaned into his friend. "Somethin' we need to do, partner." He extended the right hand to display a box of matches. "Burnin' ceremony."

Hutch appeared confused as a crease formed on his forehead. "A burning ceremony?"

A nudge of the shoulder, the brunet pocketed the box of matches and crossed his arms. "When I was in Nam I met this kid. We called him Eagle Scout, his name was Tommy." He grinned. "Good kid. A Native American and very spiritual." Licking his lips he continued. "He used to tell us that it was important to let things go. Ya see when you hold in your feelin's it can do some really bad things to ya. Over a dozen guys in our platoon got Dear John letters, lost a buddy, or saw things they don't wanna ever remember or talk about. One night Tommy set up a bonfire and convinced the guys to toss the letters in the fire." His voice was soft. "Ya see burnin' the letters was a symbol of purification and healin'. Write down thoughts, names…whatever ya need to let go. It's an ancient practice of fire ritual to be exact."

A sense of warmth encompassed the tall blond's heart striking every emotion. He knew exactly what his dark-haired counterpart wanted from him. Looking out at the ocean he cleared his throat. "This isn't exactly a Dear John letter, Buddy." A brief gesture of lightheartedness was extended.

Stepping away from the car and going to the trunk, Starsky pulled his key and unlocked the trunk. "Nope, but it's time we let go of some ghosts and start a new life." The trunk popped open and he retrieved the bag.

They walked slowly toward the beach picnic area. In an open area sat a bonfire pit surrounded with bricks. The evening air was cool. Hutch gathered some branches from nearby trees as Starsky pulled the items from the white plastic bag and sat them on the ground. They both knelt near the pit and arranged the sticks and ripped the plastic bag. The box of matches were revealed in the brunet's hand and taken by Hutch.

Starsky pulled a pencil and pad of paper from his jacket pocket as Hutch struck the match against the side of the box and gently placed the ignited stick in the pit. He watched as the fire grew slowly. The notepad was handed to Hutch along with the pencil. "To our future, Hutch. I know this ain't a Dear John letter, but you could say it's a so-long-sucker-list." The sapphire blue eyes sparkled against the growing flame.

The stunned blond looked at the notepad he held in his fingers. Written in a left handed scribble was the name Kira, Prudholm and Forrest. Hutch closed his eyes and took a deep breath and added the names Diana, and Bellamy. He hesitated, his features grew rigid, and he wrote the name James Gunther in capital letters and added an exclamation point. The list of names was long and scattered amongst several pages that Hutch tore from the notepad. The fire roared as they stood and stepped back. Hutch tossed the pages into the flames. Starsky handed his dazed partner the brown leather stained jacket as he held the tennis shoes and other articles. Both men glared at the flames and dropped their items one at a time into the inferno. "We release what no longer serves our purpose." Starsky's voice was authoritative. "I_nto this smoke I release all energies that do not serve a purpose; all negativity that surrounds us; and all fears that limit us. Tommy if ya hear me…thanks." Trembling hands reached up to untie the suede lacing around his neck. The coins chimed as they dangled from the cord and Starsky's fingers. _

_Hutch reached out and took the necklace from his partner. "Do you mind if we keep this, Buddy? I always thought this was a good luck charm." Blue eyes shimmered as they looked at Starsky and handed the necklace back. "I'm…okay. I've got your back, Partner." A flood-gate of pent-up burden released. The tall sentimental partner pulled his friend to him into a meaningful embrace. They pulled apart still comforting each other with gestures of touching each other's arms. "This was beautiful, Starsk. Thanks Buddy." A sense of peace overcame him. _

_The items burned quickly and only ashes remained. The flames weakened as they watched. Hutch kicked some dirt into the pit to put out the remaining fire. Starsky checked his watch and elbowed his partner. "Come on ya big Lummox. Tonight we celebrate tomorrow is day one to the rest of our lives. It's almost eleven. I told ya, this lion has been caged…besides I'm all dressed up and nowhere to go. I say Stanley, we need to locate this place called nowhere and go." He started to walk away. _

_Stunned Hutch looked at his partner walking away. "Why Ollie, that is a splendid idea. Does the nowhere placed contain Italian food or Mexican?" He questioned with surprise in his voice._

_Starsky turned and tugged his suit jacket and grinned. "Steaks! A time to celebrate, Hutch. Goodbye and good riddance to the past and onto a new beginning and future." Enthusiasm soared through his words. The brunet although winded continued toward the Torino as he talked._

_A wide smile overtook the blond's features. He stopped and turned to look at the smoldering fire pit. "I don't say it often, but thanks." The now emotionally moisture filled eyes looked to the sky. "Thanks for giving me what I needed most, my partner. Sometimes he simply amazes me." With a new found source of energy the blond turned and ran after his partner and put his arm over his shoulder._

_A journey to a new beginning. What does the future hold? _


End file.
